


Saving Jordan Sterling

by RegularLyfe



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Hybrid Minds AU, older pines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 11:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5495912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegularLyfe/pseuds/RegularLyfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan wasn't a bad guy.  Yeah, he was a little rough around the edges, but he did his best.  The construction equipment incident notwithstanding, he was an upstanding citizen, and he certainly wasn't a murderer.</p>
<p>Mystery Twins are on the case in Jordan's first misadventure introducing him into the Hybrid Minds AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Introducing a major OC of the Hybrid Minds AU: Jordan Sterling!

Mabel Pines adjusted her skirt in the car, preparing to enter the Portland precinct. On the phone, this case hadn’t sounded too promising; her new client was the only suspect in this murder case, and he had a previous criminal record to boot. In Mabel’s professional opinion, Jordan Sterling was going to end up in prison, but as long as she could be sure he was guilty, that might be fine. Mabel stepped out of her car and absentmindedly kicked the driver’s side door shut. It was a drizzly sort of day in the city this morning, so Mabel shielded her hair with the case files she had brought.

Within a few minutes, one of the staff members had showed her to a secure counseling room. He bolted the door securely behind her, because Jordan Sterling, murder suspect, was already inside. The room was about the size of a closet, nice and cozy, and it was lit by a single, uncovered fluorescent bulb. Sterling had dark circles under his eyes; spending a night in the precinct’s holding cells could do that. His dark hair contrasted with a pair of vivid, if currently clouded, blue eyes, and Mabel couldn’t help but notice that he obviously worked out. But she didn’t exactly know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, considering she was locked in a metal room with him and he had been accused of murder.

Frankly, Jordan was pissed. “I’m sorry, but you’re my lawyer?” he asked. “You look like you should be teaching preschool.” Seriously, were lawyers even allowed to have hair that long?

“Yeah, and you look like you could use a good night’s sleep. I mean, bag check for Mr. Sterling’s eyes! But really,” Mabel continued, with syrupy sweetness, “If you want to win this case, you’re going to have to respect your attorney. I’m the only thing standing between you and a hefty prison sentence.” She smiled extra wide at the scruffy-looking young man to make sure he got the message.

“But what is that worth? Can you win this? Be honest with me, because you look like you don’t know Jack,” Jordan snapped. He blinked when she slapped her files squarely down on the flimsy table: “Um, no offense.”

“None taken. I’ll have you know, I’ve already won twelve cases, this year. So, I think I can handle this if I put my mind to it. You just have to let me work.”  
Well, Sterling, looks like you managed to stumble upon a winner. This girl may actually have a backbone. Jordan thought. “Fine then,” he conceded, “I’ll let you take this over.” Heaven knows that I can’t do this myself.

“Thank you. Now I need to to hear your side of the story. The police are quite convinced that you murdered Bailey Harris, and her family hired a prosecutor who wants to try for the maximum sentence. If I’m going to win this case for you, it will take a good deal of work.” Mabel dropped into her chair, suddenly all business. “Now you need to convince me this is worth it. Convince me that you’re innocent, Mr. Sterling.” 

\--

“All right, man, let me get this straight,” Mabel said; she tapped her pen against the table surface with impeccable rhythm. “You were walking home when something with wings attacked you in the dark. It knocked you out and you woke up in the back of a police cruiser? That’s it? That’s not an alibi, Sterling, that’s a death sentence.”

“I know, I know, but that’s what happened, I swear! I may have a criminal record, but I don’t lie, Pines.” Jordan sighed and cradled his face in his hands. “I’m going to lose, aren’t I?”

“Maybe, but then again, maybe not. Could you describe the thing that assaulting you in better detail?” Mabel asked. Jordan was surprised to find that she wasn’t smirking at him and she didn’t sound at all sarcastic. Did she take his story seriously?

“Well, uh, I guess it was attacking me, so I never got a good look at it. It had feathers and really huge wings. There was a long beak, and it might have had a scaly kind of tail? But that can’t have really happened, right? I just hit my head or something?” Jordan Sterling was looking for answers. But Mabel knew that many of the people who wanted answers had trouble handling those answers when they involved the supernatural. It would be a bad idea to just tell him without offering any follow-up, so she just shut her folder primly and made a “hmm” noise in her throat.

Mabel finally looked back up at her client: “I don’t know exactly, Mr. Sterling, but I’ll see what I can pull together. I’ll have somebody look over what the police have collected and come up with a story, okay?” She gave him a sad kind of half-smile and gathered her papers. “I’ll come see you another day.” Mabel Pines exited the room, leaving Jordan with a slight sense of looming disappointment.

\--

The phone rang about seven times too many before Dipper picked up. “C’mon, c’mon, you can’t be out,” Mabel mumbled. Her brother answered with a lethargic grunt. “Hi Dip, it’s Mabel! You weren’t asleep, were you?” Mabel chastised her sibling.

“Guuh, yeah. What time is it?” the young man asked.

“Only three in the afternoon, ya doofus! Okay, listen carefully, because I need your help with a case. My client says he was attacked by something with big, feathery wings and a scaly tail. I need you to look into whatever kind of creature that is, and also into the evidence from the Bailey Harris murder case. I love you! Kaythanksbyeee!” Mabel hung up abruptly.

On the other end of the line, Dipper paused for a moment to figure out what his sister had said. He glanced through his currently cluttered apartment for a notebook with a fresh page before he scrawled his new assignment down and stumbled off to get dressed.


	2. Chapter 2

An hour and a half after Mabel had left the police precinct, Dipper entered it. He had thrown on a pair of jeans and a threadbare t-shirt after she called to rope him into her most recent case. Now he was entering the bustling headquarters from street level, trying not to look like a criminal or some kind of drug dealer. Dipper approached the desk and nervously adjusted his glasses.

“Um, hey,” he asked the blond man who was currently occupied answering the phone, “Is Nate in? I need to ask him something.” The blond guy only nodded.  
Pleasantries aside, Dipper turned from the desk and ducked into the stairwell. He clomped up two flights before he smelled something offensive. The warm, fishy smell grew stronger as Dipper entered Nate’s department and approached his friend’s door. The little metal nameplate that said “Nathaniel Bridges: Detective” was askew on the flimsy door. Dipper would have knocked, but the door was already ajar, so he carefully shoved it back and stepped into the office. There was Nate, shiny head turned away from the door, eating a bagel smeared with some kind of tuna salad.

Dipper cleared his throat softly; it wouldn’t be good to startle a guy who was packing heat. Nate liked to joke that Dipper moved too silently for his own good, that one of these days, the quiet and slightly spooky young man would be mistaken for a criminal and arrested by mistake. But it was unlikely that Dipper’s habits would change. He had trained himself to go unnoticed since high school.

Nate hastily choked down his last bite and swiveled around to face Dipper. “Woah, hey man. When did you get in here?” He stopped to brush a few crumbs off of his pants and shot his skinny white friend a grin.

“Oh, I just arrived. My sister wants me to look at some evidence for a case she’s working on and give her my opinion. Typical stuff.” Dipper ruffled the hair on the back of his neck and yawned.

“Well, your sister should know that we can’t keep doing this all the time. Evidence should stay with whoever is in charge of the case, Pines.” For a second, Dipper’s eyes widened as he struggled to process his friend’s refusal. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. I’ll let you look over it. We can call it payback for that time with the fake psychic, okay?” Nate winked across his desk and pulled out the necessary paperwork. “Which case did you need to see?”

—

Mabel wouldn’t like this. The police had been meticulous when gathering their evidence (as they often were), but the myriad photographs and small samples in plastic baggies allowed only one conclusion. It was no wonder the police had locked Jordan up. Ms. Harris’s body was covered in welts and small slicing wounds. The cuts on Bailey’s face and neck they attributed to a pocketknife in Sterling’s possession; its small blade was covered in blood (still awaiting lab work). There was blood under Bailey’s fingernails, so the police claimed that she had fought her attacker, which explained Jordan’s own scratches. No witnesses had been found at the scene. The only thing that the cops lacked on this particular offense was a motive for the murder.

At this point, all of the evidence contradicted Sterling’s story. Dipper took a deep breath and dug his phone out while mentally preparing himself for an unpleasant conversation with his sister.

“Hey, there, Mabes,” he said. “I was looking through the evidence, and, uh, it doesn’t look too good for your guy.”

“Huh?” she replied, “What do you mean?”

“Listen, all of the evidence is against him. The stuff that the police have collected is pretty clear cut. Even I have to say that this guy looks like the murderer.”  
Mabel was silent for a while before she answered her brother. “Okay, bro, but don’t think that your job is done yet. I still want you to investigate whatever kind of creature he could have seen.”

“Heh. You don’t have to tell me twice Mabel. I’ll look into that, too. Love you, and tell Wendy to eat her vegetables.” Dipper waved his hand nonchalantly as he disengaged from the conversation.

“Okay, bro. Talk to you later.” Mabel Pines said before she hung up.

—

When counselor Pines visited her client the next day, she was fairly frustrated. Jordan Sterling, on the other hand, was fairly confused. There was a young man right behind his lawyer; he was wearing flannel and carrying a satchel stuffed with papers and notebooks. The man didn’t say a word as he shut the door and leaned against it. Mabel sat heavily down with a huff and addressed Jordan from across the table he was handcuffed to.

“Okay, Mr. Sterling, my assistant and I have reviewed the evidence thoroughly, and we think that you should plead guilty to the murder.” Mabel said as she nodded back to the man in the mirrored sunglasses. “The police might be able to offer you a plea bargain if you confess, and that could really lighten your sentence,” she continued coldly.

“Wait, what? Why the hell would I confess?” Jordan didn’t understand. “I already told you I didn’t do it, and I thought that you believed me on this!” Jordan glared at his lawyer and sputtered with indignation. “I already have to deal with the cops looking for a fake confession, and now you want one, too?” Jordan trailed off when he glanced at the man in the sunglasses. The guy had his head cocked to the side, and Jordan could feel the guy’s eyes on him, though they were hidden behind his shades. A cold shiver ran up Jordan’s spine when the guy smirked in his direction.

“I-If you can’t accept my story, then I don’t want to talk with you right now.” Jordan stated with renewed strength, “Come back later.”

“Really, are you sure, Mr. Sterling?” Mabel asked. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back in to help you…”

“Well, you telling me to confess sure isn’t helping, Pines. Please, just get out,” Jordan sighed.  
So she did.

—

Mabel turned back to her brother when they got into the deserted elevator. “How was that back there? Is he telling the truth?”

Bill shrugged and examined Dipper’s fingernails: “Yeah, he’s sincere, but he’s an idiot if he won’t take the plea bargain. There’s no way a jury will believe he’s innocent, Shooting Star.” Bill sniggered before continuing, “And a lie detector would have told you the same thing I just did, so next time, just get one of those, okay? I have stuff to do.” The elevator doors opened with a ding to the precinct lobby. “And since when am I your assistant?” Bill asked. he strolled out of the building without giving Dipper a chance to look back at his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us at hybrid-minds-au.tumblr.com!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter, sorry!

The streetlights were on, and the clock read 12:32 in flashing red numerals. Dipper Pines, dressed in a rumpled undershirt and grass-stained denim, waded through the pile of books and papers surrounding his desk and moved to the kitchen, where a pot of coffee was waiting. Good old-fashioned caffeine might not work as well as Mabel Juice, but it did have fewer adverse side effects. Dipper grabbed a mug and dumped the contents of the coffeepot into it. He took a swig and recoiled; the coffee was beyond cold, and no longer worth drinking. He trashed the liquid and listened as it gurgled down the sink drain. Dipper was starting to get discouraged.

After Mabel had demanded that he find some mysterious, winged cryptid, Dipper had begun researching in earnest through internet message boards and old newspaper headlines. He had been at it for several hours uninterrupted, but none of the reported sightings exactly matched the mysterious creature that Jordan Sterling claimed to have fought. A van rumbled by on the street behind his apartment, and Dipper had an unnerving premonition that the well of paranormal information was going to run dry in about twenty minutes. If he couldn’t find any mention of the beast soon, it was unlikely that he ever would. So, with his confidence dwindling, Dipper did something that he hadn’t in at least a couple of weeks: he called his great uncle.

Even though it was past midnight in Oregon, Great Uncle Ford answered on the third ring. The men of the Pines clan slept very little usually; insomnia, paranoia, and terrible choices seemed to run in the family. 

“Greetings,” Ford answered, “Who is this?” (The poor scientist still needed to catch up on certain modern conveniences, like caller ID.)

“Hey, Uncle Ford, it’s Dipper.” The young man paused. Talking with his hero still made Dipper question his thoughts and second-guess himself where he normally wouldn’t. “I had some questions about a certain cryptid that I wanted to ask you.”

“Ah, sure, Dipper. Which creature did you have questions about?” Stanford Pines asked. Dipper heard a low croaking coming through the background noise on the phone, as if Ford had a bullfrog with a throat problem in his lab.

“Well, you know, that’s the problem. All I have is a cursory description of the monster. I dont know what kind of thing I’m chasing, here,” Dipper explained. “My source claims he was attacked at night by a creature with large, feathered wings and a scaly tail. The thing also had a long, sharp beak that is used to try and bite him. Nobody seems to have any information on this type of cryptid, and it’s gotten kind of frustrating.”

“You sure it had a scaly tail? That narrows it down a little. Let me check,” Ford mumbled to Dipper as he set the phone down on a desk. Dipper could hear papers shuffling in the receiver as his great uncle hastily flipped through files and handmade books for the right entry. The croaking sound increased in volume until Stanford snapped, “Stop that!” Something whimpered as Ford returned to the phone. “Okay, it sounds like you most likely have a thunderbird on your hands. They can be bloodthirsty during certain phases of the moon and–”

“Wait, Uncle Ford, a thunderbird? Like on the totem pole? Are those even real?” Dipper asked.

“Don’t interrupt, kid,” Ford said. “Thunderbirds are very real, but not the kind you mean. You’re thinking of the mythological thunderbird, but it’s the cryptozoological thunderbirds you have to worry about. They’re very large, and they have both scales and feathers. They’ve got large, serrated beaks, and you might say that they look similar to pterodactyls, if you’ve ever seen one of those.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Dipper said with a grin. “Where could I find one?” he asked his gruff great uncle.

“Well, they actually live in large, pack-like groups. Look for them anywhere with a decent supply of small animals for food and ample fresh water. They’re likely to nest in quiet, sheltered spaces, like abandoned buildings or caves. But, listen, Dipper,” Ford continued, “I wouldn’t recommend just charging into a thunderbird nest. These things can be dangerous, unpredictable, and very, very bloodthirsty. They’re carnivores, and I wouldn’t recommend going to catch one alone.”

“I’m never alone, Uncle Ford,” Dipper murmured. He stopped pacing through the apartment, even though his nervous, nighttime energy had suddenly increased tenfold. There was an uncomfortable pause.

“Right, right, I mean, just … don’t go without your sister or somebody.” Ford sounded simultaneously embarrassed and angry. “Umm, speaking of that, how is your, uh, demon doing?”

“Bill is, uh, he’s doing fine. Hasn’t done anything too dangerous or threatened my sanity lately, so…” Dipper trailed off. His conversation skills had been taxed far too much, and there was only so much he could talk about when Bill was involved.

“Right, well, Dipper?” Ford started.

“Yeah?”

“If he becomes a problem again, then I want to be the first person to know. Even the smallest thing, okay?” Ford asked his great nephew.

“Yeah, Uncle Ford, if that happens, you’ll hear all about it,” Dipper answered. “Right after I call Mabel and tell her.”

A long silence followed while each man listened to the other breathe through the phone. Stanford hung up first. In the woods outside of his creaky house, a white owl hooted contentedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow us at hybrid-minds-au.tumblr.com!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TW: some gore and animal(ish) violence!
> 
> To make up for last chaper's shortness, this one is a bit long!

The Pines family is an exceptionally stubborn group of people. It’s true; there are examples in every generation. When Stanley Pines was kicked out of his home with nothing but his car and the clothes on his back, he never once went crawling back to his father. Old Stan Pines traveled to both sides of the country (and the law) on his quest to make millions, and he never looked back, not once on his long road of failure.

Consider his brother, Stanford Pines, who refused to dismantle the key to the apocalypse before it let terrible evils loose on the world. He didn’t listen to the prudent advice of his assistant, oh no. He stubbornly preserved his life’s work, an engine of planetary destruction, far longer than necessary.

And Mabel Pines, who faced off against an actual god in order to fulfill her matchmaking plans. Stubborn to the extreme.

So it shouldn’t be surprising that Dipper Pines is currently alone in a dilapidated old church with dozens of bloodthirsty thunderbirds, even though his great uncle told him to go with backup. He’s just stubborn that way.

—

Once Ford had given him critical information on the beast that he was supposed to be hunting, Dipper had gotten straight back to work. It was child’s play to pull up a map of the surrounding area and pinpoint all of the water sources. Dipper had done a quick search for missing pets and livestock, and soon his map was covered in little red push pins, one for each reported incident. Sure enough, the little pins had distributed themselves pretty neatly into five concise groups.

So Dipper had gathered his hunting gear, meticulously inventorying the equipment necessary to track down a large, carnivorous animal. He stuffed his backpack with his heavy-duty flashlight, his dog-eared, hand-copied spellbook, a package of raw hamburger meat, a lengthy coil of parachute cord, and a collection of unbreakable specimen jars. He managed to shove a pair of explosive crystals into one of the canvas knapsack’s side pockets.

It was then, with the pale light of sunrise flooding through his windows, that he called his sister.

“Morning, Mabes, how’s it going?” he asked cheerfully as he surveyed the thoroughly pushpin-skewered map.

“Ugh,” she answered, “Not so good. Wendy caught the flu or something, and she gave it to me, and now we’re both barfing all over the place, and I wanted to come up with my opening statement today, and the apartment is just a mess, and the Sterling trial’s in only a couple of weeks, and –”

“Woah, okay,” Dipper cut her off. “I get the picture. You should stay home and rest, and I’ll work on the Sterling case. Uncle Ford gave me some really good information, and I have a promising lead on the creature. When I get back, maybe I can help you take care of Wendy?”

If Mabel had been well, she would have squealed in delight. As it was, she gave a tired grin and said, “Thanks, Dipper. You’re the best.”

Dipper chuckled and said, “I know. Drink plenty of fluids, and try to get some rest.”

“You’re the boss,” she said, before he ended the call. 

Dipper sighed, and thought, Well, it looks like my partner has to sit this one out. So much for bringing backup. He rummaged around in his kitchen before bringing out his car keys and a hunting knife (silver, with arcane symbols etched on the blade) and hoisting his backpack by one strap. The pack of thunderbirds out there wasn’t going to wait for Mabel to get better, so neither would Dipper.

—

Dipper’s car, a navy sedan, was having trouble navigating the rocky dirt roads out in the backcountry, so he parked it at a boarded-up liquor store and pocketed the keys. The fourth site, an abandoned church from the 1800s, was a thirty minute hike from the highway. He got started right away. Fall colors were creeping across the leaves of many of the trees while squirrels, twitchy and hyperactive for the fall, danced through the underbrush. Dipper stopped for a moment to adjust his boots and pull out a pair of reflective sunglasses to protect against the slanting rays of the late-afternoon sun. Dipper would have been giddy with the anticipation of hunting a new paranormal creature if he hadn’t already been disappointed three times today. At each previous site, he had searched for over an hour before setting a few snares and calling it quits. 

But as he neared the rickety church, Dipper became convinced more and more that it was hiding the answer to his mystery. Birdsong grew quiet near the old structure, and the squirrels all seemed to avoid it. He noticed a pile of boulders defaced with a sandy-colored splatter, and he grinned when he detected the scents of musk and other secretions. His fourth site was already more promising than the last three.

As the shadows from a copse of spruce trees lengthened across the forest floor, Dipper entered the old church through its half-unhinged doorway. The golden afternoon sun illuminated rotting pews and ripped songbooks with rusty bloodstains strewn about the floor. Animal bones and other inedible paraphernalia had been swept to the side of the large meeting room. Dipper gagged once on the smell of blood and feces before he looked up to the church’s partially collapsed ceiling.  
There they were, perched up in the rafters. A large flock of sharp-beaked, scaly-tailed thunderbirds, just as Jordan Sterling and Uncle Ford had described. The largest one was around seven feet from head to tail, with ragged, yellow-tinged feathers covering its wings. Its eyes were large and amber-colored, with slit pupils like a cat or a crocodile, and those huge eyes were focused right on Dipper. The large thunderbird cocked its head to the side, clearly confused about the large, hairless creature that had just entered its home, then it shuffled its wings and opened its mouth wide enough to admit a large dog. 

The thunderbird’s piercing shriek echoed through the shell of the abandoned church. The rest of its flock woke up and noticed Dipper standing in the doorway. They shuffled in the rafters for a few brief seconds before several swooped down to attack. They snapped their beaks as they surrounded him, brandishing sharp talons and lashing their tails back and forth.

Dipper felt a scream coming out of the back of his throat, but quickly swallowed it. He fumbled with his belt before he managed to draw his hunting knife and put it between himself and the thunderbirds.

“Agh, uh, uhm, FULMEN!” Dipper yelled to the nonexistant congregation. Sparks jumped out of the silver blade and the smell of ozone entered the atmosphere. Lightning crackled at the bloodthirsty creatures in a pale, arcane display of light. The electric attacks only stunned a pair of thunderbirds before Dipper ran out of energy for his magical affront. While the lightning flickered out, the flock flew closer, forcing the young hunter back.

“Gwaahh!” Dipper choked when he stumbled backwards and fell squarely on his butt. He had carelessly caught his boot heel on the threshold. The closest thunderbird launched itself at his face and raked a set of talons across his shoulder. The set of deep, parallel cuts began to burn. He thought with terror of sliced ligaments and considered testing to make sure that his arm could still move.

His arm did move, but Dipper wasn’t the one who moved it.

“I am so over this,” Bill snarled. He let Dipper’s knife hit the floor with a clatter as he reached out for the nearest winged monstrosity. The thunderbird squawked and thrashed about until Bill gripped it by the head and promptly broke its neck. 

Dipper’s breath caught in his throat. “Bill– wait, be careful!” He tried in vain to turn his head or pick up the knife, but Bill had an iron grip on his body.

“Screw careful, Pine Tree, I just want CHAOS!” the demon bellowed. Blue fire filled Dipper’s hands and illuminated the aging pews.

“I need samples from these creatures, Bill! And don’t just burn the place down–”

“Too late!” Bill sang. He tossed balls of cerulean flame without heed for the church’s unsteady structure. “If you want samples, I’ll leave you some, though. We can put them on toothpicks and have a party!” Bill ripped a plank from the dusty floor and swung it through the air. Thunderbirds that made the mistake of flying to close were unceremoniously smacked to the floor. Bill howled with laughter while he massacred the flock. “Get it, kid?! A party!!” 

—

When sunset reached the old church, there wasn’t a single thunderbird left alive. Bill stumbled through the wreckage, occasionally pausing to stomp through a bird’s ribcage. He stopped when he reached Dipper’s discarded hunting knife. He stooped to pick it up and ran a bloody hand through his hair.  
“Sometimes I forget what it feels like to have such a good time,” he said. Bill carried the blade over to the nearest carcass and started poking through it, drawing blood as he chopped up the thunderbird’s remaining organs.

“It’s over, Bill. Let me back in,” Dipper whined. He could feel how Bill had overused his body; his joints were all creaky and his muscles ached. Dipper would be feeling this fight in the morning.

“What?” he asked, “Is this too gross for you, kid?”

Dipper answered, “No, but honestly, you’re going a little overboard here, Cipher. I mean–”

Bill didn’t give him a chance to finish. “Are you mourning these things, Pine Tree? They killed that girl, they don’t deserve to live!”

“That’s not what I mean!” Dipper’s knife hand hung suspended in the air as he explained, “I could have used one alive, or even an intact body to dissect. I can’t show any of this to the scientific community. It could too easily be a hoax. And if I can’t prove that these thunderbirds are real, then what will Mabel present in the Sterling case?” Dipper stood haltingly and brushed off the knees of his jeans.

Bill didn’t have an excuse left, so he stayed silent. Dipper folded the sunglasses back into his pocket with a sigh and left the church. Blue fire still flickered on the walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us at hybrid-minds-au.tumblr.com!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to Saving Jordan Sterling! Next chapter is an epilogue.

Dipper used half a bottle of shampoo trying to get the blood out of his hair the next day, and Mabel noticed. When she opened her door and got a whiff of her normally-sloppy brother, freshly washed, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Woah, bro. You smell much nicer than usual. And that new flannel? Is there a girl out there that I need to know about?” she teased him and leaned against the doorframe. She was wearing a pair of coffee-stained pajama bottoms, and her hair was deflated on one side, as though she had been lying down all day.  
Dipper gave Mabel a look that was equal parts sympathy and annoyance. Then he answered, “Yeah, I’ve got a girl. Her name is Bill Cipher, and we went on a date last night,” he deadpanned. “It was magical, in more ways than one.” He shot his sister another flat look, and she stepped aside to let him in. 

“Uncle Dipper!” A high-pitched squeal came from the kitchen. Young Wendy, dressed in a knitted jumper and mismatched socks, rushed to greet her favorite babysitter. Dipper managed to heft his niece in an awkward hug while she squirmed impatiently. 

“She perked up last night.” Mabel sighed. “Wendy got over her case of the flu surprisingly quick. I’m still fighting it, though. Wish I had her energy right about now.”

“C’mon, sis, you’ll get over it. No flu can stand up to Mabel Pines! You’re the best fighter I know, so this can’t take too long.”

“Dipper, I can’t exactly punch the flu away-” she started.

“Nooo, you have to fight it! When the flu pushes you, you push back! Mystery twins!” he exclaimed as he shook Wendy about. The little girl giggled and gripped his collar.

—

Dipper treated his niece to juice and undercooked pancakes while Mabel brewed a pot of coffee. The aroma of flavorful beans barely covered up the smell of unwashed dishes and illness that currently occupied her apartment. Wendy swept a pair of small, triangular pancake boats through a syrup river, nearly spilling the sticky overflow onto a crocheted placemat.

“All right, kiddo, I think you’re done here.” Mabel said, while Dipper dumped his sister’s batter-caked pan in the sink. “You still need to pick up all of those stuffed animals, okay? They might get sad sitting on the couch without you.” Wendy scampered off; Dipper deposited himself in a kitchen chair next to his “Best Uncle” mug.

“So, what’s the deal, bro-bro?” Mabel questioned. “How was last night? Will the Sterling case hold water?” 

Dipper took a long slurp of coffee and considered how best to answer his sister. “Last night was not the best hunt I’ve ever had,” he said carefully. “Bill got carried away, and I don’t have a single good specimen, so I don’t think we can use the supernatural evidence in the Sterling case.” Mabel’s face fell. Dipper scratched the back of his neck, and went on. “The only samples I managed to get out with were mostly blood, so that’s what we have to work with at the moment.”  
Before Mabel’s eyes, her brother’s mannerisms changed drastically. He pushed the mug back to the center of the table and straightened up, before smirking at her unwashed appearance.

“Aw, cheer up, kids,” Bill droned. “I have a solution to your problem, if you’ll hear me out.” He grinned at himself in the mirrored surface of the oven door, flashing amber cat’s eyes before continuing. “You just need to lie to the whole court, and you can get this guy off scot free!”

“Hang on-” Dipper coughed as he lunged for the coffee mug.

At the same time, Mabel said, “I’m listening.”

Dipper looked over at her with surprise before Bill took over again. “Excellent, Shooting Star. Good to see you have some sense! Now when we craft our lie, we need to be as convincing as possible, so we should probably stick close to the truth. That’s the way the best lies go, you see, they have a lot of truth in ‘em.”

He paused for dramatic effect, expecting gasps or words of outrage. Mabel gave him nothing, and Dipper was too shocked at her acceptance to say anything at all. Bill’s toothy smile didn’t waver as he resumed explaining. “There was blood on the knife and on the girl’s hands, right? Just test the hell out of that stuff, and we can find a match in Dip’s samples, guaranteed. Then take his sample and make it look like it came from a dog or something. The meat juice from those thunderbirds will convince the jury that a dog was to blame the whole time! Heck, it might even convince your client. You know how moldable memories can be, right?”

“Mabel didn’t consider for too long before she answered, “Okay, Cipher, I’ll think about it.”

Bill straightened his collar and leaned back before ceding control to Dipper, who nearly fell backward into a row of potted plants.

“Are you really going to lie to a whole court?” he asked his sister.

“Morality is relative, Dipper,” she answered. “People do it all the time, and besides, it’s not like Sterling’s actually guilty. If we let him be convicted, we would be putting an innocent guy in jail.”

“We are so crazy,” he said to no one in particular.

“Yeah,” she answered him, “but at least I don’t talk to myself all the time.” Mabel took a thoughtful sip while looking out the kitchen window. As they lapsed into silence, the twins could hear Wendy singing a broken incantation to her favorite bunny rabbit in the next room. Dipper slipped his glasses off to clean them while steam snaked out of their twin mugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us at hybrid-minds-au.tumblr.com!


	6. Jordan Sterling Saved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed Saving Jordan Sterling!

People who had never entered the Double Deuce often complained that the bar’s dingy exterior clashed with the rest of the storefronts on the street. The inside didn’t look much better. The paint on the walls often flaked off in greenish chunks, there was precious little light, and the floor was so sticky and covered in grease that walking was incredibly difficult. The Double Deuce managed to accrue a crowd of regulars anyway. Smokers clustered around the two intact ashtrays and a number of thick-looking men swapped stories with the guy behind the bar. There was no music, just the noise of two news anchors dribbling from an old television set.

Jordan Sterling stepped carefully through the threshold, but snagged the end of his jacket in the swiftly closing door anyway. Jordan was not a regular customer at the Deuce, but Jerri over at McAnally’s had been giving him the cold shoulder ever since the Bailey Harris case had been decided. Jerri and Bailey must have been friends, or something. No matter how much Jordan raised his tips, Jerri still “forgot” his orders, spilled his drinks, and just plain ignored him. With no end to this poor treatment in sight, Jordan had decided to take his business elsewhere. At the time, with all of the righteous indignation he felt over Jerri’s unfairness, leaving McAnally’s had seemed like a good idea. But now, Jordan surveyed all of the unfamiliar faces that crowded the Deuce and seriously reconsidered. Sure, the people over at McAnally’s could be assholes, but at least they were assholes that he knew. Jordan was just about to turn tail and leave for a night of drinking alone when he spotted a face that he did know.

It was the sunglasses guy, or, as Jordan had learned when he appeared during the hearings, Mr. Pines. The young man wasn’t wearing the aviators that had covered his eyes when Jordan first saw him, just a pair of slightly nerdy-looking glasses and a sweatshirt that looked a little too big. He was bent over the table of a booth in the bar’s shadowiest corner, scratching out an entry in a moleskine notebook. 

Jordan started toward the corner table, his earlier resolve refound. Pines looked up at him, but didn’t make a move to greet him or send him away. The pale guy only watched as Jordan sat down opposite him. Mr. Pines went back to the notebook and crossed something out, and Jordan was suddenly acutely aware that he had chosen a seat facing away from the bar’s only exit.

“Hey there, Mr. Pines.” Jordan desperately tried to start a conversation. “You, uh, you come here often?”

The bespectacled man closed his notebook with a snap. He slid it into a dark green backpack, and said, “Most weeks. And it’s Dipper.”

Jordan’s face must have signaled profound confusion, because after a pause, Dipper elaborated. “Call me Dipper. It’s my nickname.”

Jordan crossed his arms nervously. The thin man who had so eloquently offered the evidence from the genetic analysis at his trial seemed like a whole different person outside the courtroom. “What- why do they call you that?” Jordan asked.

In reply, Dipper only shifted his curly hair back from his forehead, revealing a weirdly shaped birthmark that, sure enough, resembled the stars of the Big Dipper with uncanny accuracy.

“Woah!” Jordan gawked across the table, “I didn’t see that at the trial! How’d you make it go away?” He searched his memory, but could recall only a pale white forehead under Mr. Pines’s slicked-back hair on the day of his courtroom appearance.

“Makeup,” Dipper told him. “My sister always insists on putting it on for me when she needs me in court. It’s kind of a pain, actually.” He gave a sigh and his eyes softened, fractionally.

“Your sister?” asked Jordan.

“Mabel Pines? Your lawyer? She’s always asking me for help defending hopeless cases like yours. I mean, I’m a fair investigator, and I know my way around a forensics lab, but I’m not the most useful testimony, or the most trustworthy guy.” Jordan didn’t exactly agree. During the trial, Pines had looked good, talked smoothly, and acted like a true gentleman. “I think she’s just trying to get me some business, which is kinda stupid, because I make most of my money from computers, anyway. Investigating and science are more like my hobbies.”

“But she’s your sister?” Jordan said, questioningly. When Dipper replied, “Yeah, we’re twins,” something approaching relief entered Jordan’s tense stomach. Now that Dipper had pointed it out, the family resemblance seemed obvious. Dipper and Mabel shared the same shaggy brown hair and the same nut brown eyes. They even had the same nose. But where Mabel had been solid, built with meat and muscle, Dipper was much more lean. He also stood about three inches taller than his sister, which made comparing them a little more difficult.

“Wow, that’s weird. I actually thought you guys were married, or something.” Cue nervous laughter. Dipper fidgeted with the pen he was holding, while Jordan searched for something to change the subject. 

“So, I used to work for this construction company, but they let me go after I was arrested. You, uh, know of anybody who’s hiring?”

“Well…” Dipper said, thoughtfully, “Rick, who owns this place is always complaining about how he needs somebody to work the afternoons. He must be pretty desperate, because he’s even asked me a couple of times. You should talk to him.” The young man uncapped his pen and doodled something on the back of his hand before gathering the scraps of paper and balled up napkins that had accumulated around his seat.

“Thanks, Dipper. I think I’ll do that.” Jordan said. “Leaving so soon?” he asked as he eyed the paper scraps that Dipper was now shoving into his bag.

“Um, yeah. I’ve been here for a couple of hours now, and I’d like to go home. Maybe I’ll see you around, though? I mean, if you get that job.” Dipper adjusted his glasses and slung the bag over his shoulder. “Good luck, I guess.”

“Thanks, and uh, bye.” Jordan answered, but Dipper was already halfway out the door. Jordan reached for his keys, fumbled, and dropped them beneath the table. He cringed, and bent down to pick them up, avoiding straw wrappers and a few massive dust bunnies. Before he touched his key ring, however, he stumbled upon a rumbled piece of notebook paper, almost certainly one of Dipper’s. On a whim, he picked it up and held it in his lap as he smoothed it out.

The scrap of college ruled was covered in an intricate ballpoint drawing. As Jordan unfolded the page, the design came into focus. A number of strange occult symbols covered the borders of the page surrounding one large, darkly lined design. It was the image of a triangle, with an eye in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us at hybrid-minds-au.tumblr.com!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow us at hybrid-minds-au.tumblr.com!


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